Fever

cute

Cute.
It was the word that had been running through Mycroft Holmes' mind since his brother had been in his office.

But the word "cute" was by no means referring to his brother. Sherlock... Mycroft snorted in amusement. Sherlock had been quite a handsome child, but that was a long time ago and now, as a more or less grown man, he was just annoying.
No, Sherlock, however, had spoken of DI Lestrade.
He had turned up in Mycroft's office under a rather flimsy pretext and after a short back and forth Mycroft had asked him:
"Sherlock, what do you want?"

Sherlock had had a quick look at him and said:
"Believe it or not, big brother, I want you to find some happiness in your life. And if only because you don't get on my nerves when you're otherwise engaged. So here's what I want: DI Lestrade is a person who has been far too little cared for in his marriage. If you want to win him over you should take care of him and show that you care for his welfare."
"Well, Sherlock, I don't recall ever having expressed an interest in that matter."
"Oh, Mycroft, you forget who you're talking to. I'm no worse at deductions than you, in fact I think I'm considerably better..."
"Well then, think that..."
"and I see that you want him. And I can see that he, too, as John would say, "fancies you," so you should do us both a favor and take matters into your own hands."
"Sherlock, please leave my office. As much as I appreciate your presence, I much prefer to be left to my work in peace."
"Yeah, yeah, save the world if you want to, but after hours, look after Gavin, Graham... you know."
"Sherlock!"
That's when his brother left the office with a grin.

Since then, DI Lestrade has been haunting Mycroft Holmes' thoughts.
Cute, isn't he?
That insolent, mischievous smile that covers the policeman's face when he's having a laugh. Yes, well, Mycroft thought it was cute, he just couldn't help himself.
It showed a glimpse of the other's souls, showed a certain warm-heartedness...

He knew Lestrade as long as his brother knew him.
Of course, Mycroft had the policeman checked when he started working with Sherlock. Everyone who played a part in Sherlock's life was vetted by him, or his associates.
He had got to know him as a loyal, helpful policeman, a kind, good-hearted person.
He held him in high esteem.
Yes, and he had to admit to himself... it was more than that.
He liked him in a very different way.

Mycroft had known since early adolescence that he wasn' interested in women. He was only interested sexually in men. When he was younger he was in a committed relationship and he had suffered deeply when they broke up. It had almost torn him apart, but once he had overcome the pain, he swore to himself: never again.
Since then he had had affairs, discreet, insignificant, but he had never let anyone come near him again. He had thrown all his energy into work.
And, well, his success proved him right:
One only had to look at where he was today. Outwardly, an insignificant civil servant. But the truth is, he was pulling the strings behind the scenes for a lot of things. He was a kind of grey eminence, and the power and influence he possessed were his reward.
He smiled. His brother once claimed he was married to his work... well, he, Mycroft, was at least as much so.

His smile, however, went a little crooked as he continued to stretch the notion.
Sherlock had claimed this to fend off John, whose statements he had mistakenly interpreted as advances at the time. He had put forward this statement because he was unsure of his own intentions.
Did he feel the same way... ?
Besides, John, who hadn't thought of such a thing at the time, had managed to admit to himself that he loved Sherlock and Sherlock had also ...
They were a couple now...
Well, no. He, Mycroft, didn't need to pretend.
He knew he found DI Lestrade interesting. Still, the first thing that came to his mind when he thought of him was that smile. Cute.
But, um... he had neither the time nor the leisure for a relationship that went beyond a few bedtime adventures. And if he was honestly true, he doubted that the DI would engage in a casual affair, certainly not with him, the Iceman himself; and besides, he was honestly too good for him. A man like Lestrade deserved more.
And he was not willing or able to give more than that...
was he?
Hmmm...

He shook his head over himself.
What could possibly make him think that the DI would want to share anything like that with him.
His brother's testimony... well, there wasn't much to go on.
Sherlock managed to make him run into the open knife and then feast on the way he licked his wounds. Wouldn't have been the first time.
Even if he thought John was going to scold him in a case like this.
John did his brother good, there was no question about it.
The doctor, like Lestrade, was a lucky find for Sherlock.
Since the two had been in his life, one as, yes, how should one call it, friend and employer, the other first as a friend, now as lover, as companion, things had become much calmer around him, and he, Mycroft, had to worry much less about his little brother.
And that, he had to admit, made his life much more relaxed.
He was very grateful to the little blond doctor and the policeman with the wonderful eyes, brown as fresh coffee, and the cute smile.

And again he smiled at himself.
Good Lord, he thought about Lestrade like a teenager in love.
Well, it didn't matter, he could think whatever he wanted. Why not have a little crush?
But he'd leave it at that.
He wouldn't do anything because... No, it was fine the way it was.

With a smile he turned back to his files.
Concentrating on the problems recorded in them, the word flashed through his mind one last time:
"Cute."